


Into Evergreen (Bittersweet Ending)

by mametsundere



Series: The Spirit of Green [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mametsundere/pseuds/mametsundere
Summary: The bittersweet ending to The Spirit of Green - One of the two possible endings.The happy ending will be Part 3.





	Into Evergreen (Bittersweet Ending)

**Author's Note:**

> DO NOT READ this part 2 of the series if you haven't read part 1. This is not a standalone part as it is a direct continuation and will contain spoilers for the first part. 
> 
> But hello again everyone! Thank you so much for all the beautiful encouragement you wrote for me in The Spirit of Green. Since a lot of you have suggested that I write the two endings that I've imagined this fic having, I now present to you the bittersweet ending.
> 
> The happy ending will be Part 3 (cause I heard from some of you who plan to read both endings that you'll need it after the sadder ending to heal yourselves). 
> 
> Now without further ado. . .

Arthur was gone. 

. . . Arthur was _gone_. 

And Alfred was left in pieces. 

By the time he found it in himself to leave his room, it had been a week after Arthur's death. And until then, Matthew couldn't do anything but offer words of condolences (that were not heard) and bring up meals for him (that were not eaten). The American looked no better than a skeleton when he walked down the stairs after the week had passed, his movements as weak as a wet paper towel. 

"Going to work?" Alfred asked his cousin.

Matthew blinked himself out of the initial shock of seeing the American's face after so long. "Uh-. . . Yeah, in a few minutes. Why?"

Alfred brushed a hand through his hair, eyes drifting somewhere to the side as he sighs. "I'll go with you. Give me a sec." As he went back up the stairs without waiting for a reply, Matthew called after him in worry.

"Al, you sure? You know you don't have to, right?" 

"Can't keep letting you do all the work," Alfred answered from upstairs, a weak smile evident in his tone. 

Matthew internally debated with himself, chewing the inside of his cheek out of habit. "You sure you're okay to work though?"

There was a pause before the answer came. "Yeah. I'm fine." 

Throughout the entire day, Matthew kept a careful eye on his cousin. And although Alfred seemed to be functioning properly, it was like something inside him had died. His smiles never reached his eyes, his tone never rose above a gloomy haze, and his usual talkative personality had completely disappeared. Luckily, everyone else didn't really seem to notice since Alfred handled business effectively as usual, and anyone who did notice went along with Matthew's excuse that Alfred was still recovering from his sickness (hence the previous week off). 

Well, if wasn’t really a lie, Matthew had thought. 

If anything was sick, it was Alfred's heart after all. 

* * *

Once again, Matthew found his cousin falling asleep outside on the patio after sunset. It was the eighth time that month. Sighing, he shook his shoulder to wake him. "Al, you should go inside if you want to sleep," he said gently. "It's not warm enough for you to be out here like this."

Alfred frowned and stirred, opening his blurry eyes. "Ar-. . . thur?" It was barely audible - a mouthing, really - but Matthew heard it nonetheless, and he felt something inside him squeeze painfully. 

He shook his head. "Sorry, Al, it's just me." Something dug into him at the sight of his cousin's expression go from blissful to heartbroken so quickly. 

Alfred frowned. "Crap," Alfred groaned, sitting upright from his slumped sleeping position and rubbing at his eyes. "Sorry, Matt. Was half asleep. . . What time is it?"

"Not too late. About quarter-past seven?" 

"Damn, it feels like midnight already." Alfred looked around at the darkness.

"Well, it's not really springtime yet so the sun's still going down pretty early." Matthew gestured to the house. "So you coming in? Or do I need to bring your dinner out here again?"

Alfred shook his head and got up, stretching. "Nah, I'll come back in."

"I'm surprised you can fall asleep in this weather though," Matthew said as they walked back together. "It's still pretty chilly out."

Alfred shrugged as they stepped back into the house. He closed the door behind him. "Guess I've just been really tired lately."

"But to fall asleep _outside_? Al, you're-. . ." Matthew hesitated. He's avoided mentioning Arthur ever since he passed over a month ago and he didn't really want to bring it up now of all times. But for Alfred to idly sit outside for hours on end in a daze just because he still had a bit of hope left in him that Arthur would come back was a little concerning for Matthew to witness. "You're not still waiting for him, are you?" He knew he hit the target when the room settled into an awkward silence. 

Matthew sighed. "Al-"

"I know he's out there, Matt," he interrupted, soft but firm with his tone. "I can hear him."

"Al, I-. . . I get it if you're still mourning and everything, but to hear Arthur even though he's-. . . even though he's already-"

"He's not dead!" Alfred yelled, the anger and volume of his tone startling both of them. Taking in a deep breath, Alfred swallowed the frustration building in his throat. "That night before he-. . . before his body disappeared, he told me that his soul was mine. And that as long as I have it, I'd be able to hear him." His eyes burned something fierce when they turned to face his cousin. Matthew almost felt like taking a step back. "I can hear him, Matt. He's still alive out there."

"Al. . ."

The American shook his head to refuse the looks of sympathy his cousin was giving him and sat down at the dinner table. The chair gave a small shriek from the force Alfred pulled it at. "Arthur's alive. I _know_ it. And I'm going to wait for him for as long as it takes." 

Matthew watched him for a few seconds in silence before sighing in resignation. He then went to sit across from him. "Fine, fine, do what you want. But just remember that you can't stay here forever. You're going to have to go back to your home once the project's over, remember?"

Alfred's spoon paused in mid scoop. The reality check Matthew gave him gutted his stomach as the information sunk in. 

Right. This wasn't his home. 

He would eventually have to leave this place. The forest. 

And _Arthur_. 

Matthew saw the devastation in his cousin's eyes and sighed again. "If you really want, you can always find a place here, although it might take a while since the area's on high demand right now." He watched as the gears in Alfred's head begin to turn and continued. "But with that being said, you'll need to find a way to get re-stationed here for work or something since your office is technically back in New York. You'll have to talk to our bosses about that to get approved."

"But what am I supposed to say to them?" Alfred asked, clueless but very much intrigued at the idea.

Matthew gave his cousin a look. He should get paid to do all this life-counselling. "That's something for _you_ to think about. Do you really think it'd be a good idea to tell them the truth? What are you going to say - _'Oh, I fell in love with a forest spirit so I don't want to leave Canada'?_ You're obviously going to have to make something up."

Alfred stared hard into his plate, a pensive frown on his face as he tried to come up with all the possible stories he could say. And of course, then there were the other decisions he would have to make: living arrangements, moving all his stuff over, getting a citizenship even or maybe a visa to be allowed to stay in the country. . .

Alfred felt his brain spin into mush and his resolve cracked a little from the weight of his future decisions. "Looks like I'll have to think about this some more, huh?"

Matthew studied him, trying to decide whether or not to bring up the other, gloomier side to his thoughts. It was one thing for Alfred to figure out how to move here, but would it really be worth it? Matthew couldn't help but imagine how Alfred would spend the rest of his life here, close to the forest, just so he could wait for Arthur to come back. It was bad enough to have watched him mourn for the past month and a bit - how he sat outside so often just so he could keep his hope alive - and even now as Matthew watched his cousin poke at his food. . . 

He was worried. 

Matthew put down his fork, appetite gone. "Al."

"Hm?"

". . . Will you really be okay?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean-. . . Well, ever since Arthur. . . _left_. . . I've been concerned about you. Sometimes you look totally fine but other times you're sitting outside for hours on end with this look on your face that makes me feel like one day you're just going to walk off into the forest and never come back. I know you loved Arthur but is it really worth changing your lifestyle over him?" Seeing the betrayed expression starting to take shape on Alfred's face, Matthew hurriedly continued. "Not that I'm doubting you or your feelings or anything, I just. . ." He sighed. "I just hope you really think about everything before making any future decisions."

Alfred's face softened and he put his fork down to the side. "I get it, Matt. Thanks," he said, giving his cousin a small smile to reinsure him there were no hard feelings to be had. It took a few seconds for him to gather his thoughts, sewing them together with his feelings before he was able to answer. An old ache throbbed in his chest as he recalled the feelings that had practically destroyed him over a month ago. 

Alfred sighed. "I still love him. . . And I feel like no matter what happens, my feelings will never go away. But this is why I'm willing to make these changes. Not just for him, but for me as well. After everything that's happened, I can't just go back to how things used to be. It'll feel. . . _wrong_ to just go back to New York and work and live as if none of this ever happened. If I don't do something I feel like it'll be like I'm purposefully forgetting him. And I can't do that. . . Not while he's still alive out there somewhere." He met Matthew's gaze. "Do you. . . kind of understand?" He asked, a helpless smile tugging at his lips. "Sorry, that didn't really make much sense, did it?"

Matthew looked down at his plate of food, long past cold from neglect. "No, I can kind of understand," he said honestly. 

"Sorry I made you worry," Alfred apologized. 

Matthew shook his head. "Someone's got to do it, right?" He smirked and Alfred smiled along with him. "Just let me know if you need any help, alright?" It melted his heart when Alfred's smile changed into something softer. Sadder. 

"Thanks, Matt," he answered softly.

". . ."

". . .

". . . So you still miss him, huh?"

A soft laugh. "Every day. . ." Alfred tried to hide how his voice cracked with a cough and stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth.

* * *

Another summer and winter passed before the construction project finally came to a close. With the spring showers that had been particularly frequent in the past few weeks, it drained away whatever snow remained from winter and the forest was left in a barren, soggy mess. 

Nonetheless, Alfred had to say his goodbyes. 

Putting on his boots and taking an umbrella with him, Alfred opened the back door and stepped out. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder. 

"Make sure you come back in time," Matthew reminded him. "You don't want to be late for your flight."

"Got it!"

Opening the umbrella, Alfred breathed in the dewy air, absorbing the sound of the rain hitting the umbrella as he walked. What used to be the crunching of sand and gravel was now the soft padding of dirt and grass as the earth took in the rain. 

Alfred walked in silence. It was still strange how comforting yet agonizing it was to walk through the forest. Every tree and whisper of the wind easily ripped open old memories of the past; every flower and shade of green reminded the American of the spirit who left him a year ago. And yet, it calmed him. No matter how stressed he was from work or how chaotic his mind was, stepping into the forest cast a blanket of silence over his thoughts. 

And whenever that silence took over his mind, the only thing left was the sound of Arthur's voice.

On better days, Alfred could hear short sentences. On others, sometimes all he could hear was just Arthur calling his name. But no matter the circumstances, Alfred never felt alone whenever he walked in the forest. And just knowing the fact that Arthur was practically right there with him comforted him.

Neither him or Matthew could figure out what really happened with Arthur; whether he returned and reclaimed his place as the forest, or if his soul had been taken back by the forest and remained as a separate entity, simply trapped within the forest and powerless to physically reform. The latter had Alfred boiling at the thought, but the moment he began to hear whispers of Arthur's voice, his hope bloomed. And it only grew stronger with each passing day.

Alfred saw the lake come into view. Even now, the image of Arthur standing there, green eyes sparkling at him, blurred his reality. 

Alfred blinked once and he was gone. 

Sitting on a familiar fallen log, Alfred leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He listened to the birds. The wind. The gentle ripples of the lake as the raindrops hit. And he felt Arthur listening with him. _To_ him.

_'Alfred. . .'_

Alfred smiled. "Hey, Arthur. How you holding up? Nothing's bothering you, right?" A sigh carried muddled in the rustling of leaves was his answer and Alfred chuckled. "One of those days, huh?" He opened his eyes and began to twiddle with the hem of his shirt. "So I'm leaving today," he said quietly. "My flight's in a few hours so I uh-. . . just thought I'd come and say goodbye." He sat in the silence, listening for the slightest changes. But nothing distinct came. 

"I hope you're not mad at me for leaving you but hear me out before you say anything." Looking to the side where his hand was settled to his side on the fallen log, his absentmindedly dragged his fingers over the scales of the bark. "I got a call from the head office back in New York and apparently, someone caught wind of what I did here - you know, when we agreed to compromise and I tried to make the construction and housing more environmentally sustainable? Yeah, someone heard about it and wants me to personally direct the next big project for them. . .

"But the problem is, this project's going to be in China. I didn't really want to agree since it's so far away but my boss said that no one else could go because I'm the only person in the company that's succeeding in directing a sustainability project. And because the pollution in China's getting worse, the people over there are really adamant on making sure the structures will be environmentally friendly. Since the people there are big shots, my boss didn't want to turn this opportunity down and suggested that I go." Alfred stopped picking at the bark and clasped his hands together in his lap. 

"So I told him I'll go. I don't know how long it'll be before I'm able to come back but. . . I know it'll be a while. But even though I'm not going to be around to protect you, I'm going to make sure that no one will ever touch your forest again. I'm seeing how I can register the rest of this forest into private property. That way, nothing goes on here unless I know about it first. And if I'm not able to, I'm going to see if my company's willing to pitch in." 

He heard an odd tinkling sound to the side and he turned his head to see what it was. He was only partially surprised to see that familiar green bunny flying towards him. Standing, he walked forwards to meet it as it emerged from behind the trees. It flew a few circles around his head before it landed on his shoulder. 

"Hey, you, it's been a while," Alfred laughed as he pet its head. "You didn't come here to say bye to me, did you?" It chirped a series of noises, twinkling and whistling bell-like noises in agreement. "Thanks, I appreciate it," he said, smiling. "It's nice that you're sending me off since Arthur can't be here."

Alfred looked up and around, taking in the brilliant green overshadowing him. A childish joy lit up inside him once again as he tried to engrave the natural beauty into his memory. "You know, Arthur. . . I wonder if I'll be able to meet some spirits in China. Or anywhere else for that matter. There so much more I wanted to learn from you - _about_ you. If only you hadn't left so soon. . ." Alfred shook his head to rid of the negative thoughts that were starting to cloud his mind. "No, never mind. That's a stupid thought to think about right now."

The spirit chirped another musical sound before it fluttered its small wings, lifting itself off Alfred's shoulder. Giving Alfred's cheek a little nuzzle with its head, the bunny flew off back into the forest, disappearing from sight. And Alfred watched it go, a sad smile on his face. "I wonder what it'd be like to be a spirit," he wondered out loud. "Maybe I'll be able to communicate with Arthur better that way." He glanced down at his watch. "Oops, I probably should be heading back now or else Matt's gonna be pissed again." 

Stepping up the small hill to get back on level ground, Alfred looked back to the lake and the green surroundings. Part of him hoped that Arthur would suddenly appear in front of him to say goodbye before he left considering he didn't know how long it'll be until he'd be able to come back to visit again. But nothing happened. And Alfred had to laugh at himself for having such wishful thinking. 

"Who am I kidding?" Chuckling, he climbed up the last few slopes before he set foot back on the path. 

But suddenly, a huge gust of wind blew through the forest and Alfred's umbrella was ripped out of his hands. The trees rocked dangerously and their wood groaned in a thunderous chorus. The leaves were so loud Alfred couldn't hear himself yelping in surprise at the sudden assault, deafening his ears. He had to cover his face to protect himself from any flying debris and planted his feet into the ground to prevent himself from being blown away. 

_'Alfred. . .'_

Alfred lowered his arms, squinting against the wind pushing back his hair and face. To his amazement, there was a whirlwind of fallen leaves spiraling a few feet in the air in front of him, a circling mass of green and wind.

_'Alfred.'_

The wind around him died down enough for him to drop his arms and he stepped towards the whirlwind, entranced. "Arthur? Arthur, is that you?" 

The mass of wind blew towards him and it gently circled around his body, encasing him with a cooling touch. It only lasted a few seconds before the rush of wind spiraled upwards into the sky, taking with it the rest of the roar of the forest. And then everything fell into silence. It had been so quick Alfred would've thought it had been his imagination if it weren't for his disheveled hair. 

And before he knew it, he was crying. The message behind the phenomenon brought with the scent of the wind had past wounds ripping open in Alfred's heart, the loneliness and nostalgia assaulting him with as much intensity as white hot iron to the skin. 

_'Alfred,'_ the wind had whispered. _'Come back soon. . .'_

A sob ripped from Alfred's throat. "Arthur," he cried.

"Arthur."

"Arthur. . ." 

. . . Matthew didn't need to ask Alfred about why his eyes were so red when he got back to know what happened.

* * *

It was amazing how different China was from North America, but what Alfred still couldn't believe even now was how wondrous standing in the middle of a bamboo forest was. He had been told when he got his first briefing on the project three years ago that the government was willing to invest in the taking down of part of the largest bamboo forests in the country so long as the cutting was done proficiently and out of sheer necessity. The type of bamboo growing there wasn't able to be fed to the pandas either so waste was not an option. 

But when Alfred had first visited the site, he was shocked that the government was willing to cut down even a small part of the forest. 

The green stalks grew tall enough to rival the giant trees back home, and because their girth was so small, they grew in close proximity of each other and shrouded the forest in a fog-like green the further out you looked. The familiar reluctance had wedged its way back into Alfred's heart when he first saw the site but he quickly replaced it with determination. If he had no choice but to cut the forest down, he would make sure the damage would be as little as possible. 

He had also wondered if this forest had a spirit as well. Fortunately, the question had been solved barely a day later when the spirit actually came to find him first. 

Alfred had strayed little ways away from the rest of his crew when he first met the spirit. A little aggressive at first with that feisty look in his eyes and sharp tongue, he eventually introduced himself as Yao, the spirit of the bamboo forest and a long-time friend of Arthur's. 

_"How did you know who I was?" Alfred asked._

_"Arthur made the connection," the Chinese spirit answered in stiff English, an accent lining his words. "Spirits all saw you. Heard you too. Every spirit knows about you."_

_"Wow," whispered Alfred in awe. "Arthur connected with every spirit around the world?" The spirit nodded and regarded him with a solemn gaze, examining him._

_Unlike Arthur, his eyes were a dark shade of gold, but they glowed with the same eerie light as they pierced into Alfred. Even his garments were different, a traditional Chinese _hanfu_ made out of what looked like moss and willow leaves draped around his small body, the hems by his feet fading into the ground as if melting into the earth. From one side of his head grew a branch of magenta peonies, curving upwards like an antler as his long brown hair, tied into a loose ponytail, rested over his shoulder on the other side. _

_"You made a promise," Yao stated. "Do you remember?" When Alfred made a puzzled face, he continued. "You said you would protect Arthur. That promise was made over one year ago."_

_The spirit watched as the puzzled expression on Alfred's face turn distraught. "I'm sorry, I-. . . Looks like I wasn't able to protect him after all."_

_But instead of reprimanding him, Yao shook his head at Alfred's words. "You fulfilled your promise. Arthur may have weakened but he has safely returned to the forest. And now, through your efforts, he was unharmed by your construction and will no longer be harmed anymore. In our eyes, you completed your promise."_

_Alfred blinked in surprised. "Wait, how do you know that?"_

_"Arthur told us about you buying the land to protect him," he answered calmly. "Now everyone knows about your dedication."_

_"I would really call it dedication but-. . . Wait, you said Arthur told you?!"_

_The smallest of smiles broke on Yao's face. "Arthur is very much alive," he reassured. "Just very weak now, did I not say before? He cannot speak too much to you because his magic has almost disappeared but he can speak with us. He spent too much time away from his forest while being separated from the will of the forest, so his magic is broken. But he hears. He could hear everything you said to him."_

_A shuddering sigh of relief escaped Alfred's mouth and he had to take a moment to stop his eyes from watering. He swallowed the rising lump in his throat before speaking. "Thank God," he whispered. "He really is alive."_

_"And as Arthur put his trust in you, I will also continue to do so," Yao continued on. "I will not get in the way of your project but remember that I am always watching you." The spirit put his pale green hand tenderly on a bamboo stalk next to him. "I believed Arthur to be reckless when he accepted your compromise. He is young so I worried. I have lived for much longer so I know humans can lie very easily in order to obtain their selfish wishes. So I am glad he is still well, and that you did not break your promise." He turned his golden eyes to him, glowing with a softened amber light. "I will be in your care."_

_Alfred bowed slightly forward - a sign of respect in the Chinese culture he had learned from his short cultural briefings. "I uh-. . . apologize ahead of time if I hurt you. According to what Arthur said, it's not fun to suffer through the cutting process."_

_A weary laugh. "Indeed. But I will not be as forgiving as Arthur was if you push beyond your agreement."_

_Alfred laughed and straightened. "Got it."_

_Then Yao turned to leave, a blink was all it took for the spirit to disappear from sight._

. . .

Now that three years had passed and the construction was nearing its completion, Alfred had made up his mind. After speaking with Yao several times since their first meeting and seeing how much work it took to make sure buildings could be environmentally sustainable, Alfred realized how little the environment was being considered when new buildings were being constructed. Similar to how he began before meeting Arthur, architects and construction companies all around the world weren't aware of how much of the environment they were sacrificing just for the sake of expansion and modern aesthetic. 

So Alfred decided that once he finished this project in China, he would start his own business focused on sustainable design. Since he hadn't been able to save Arthur in Canada, he was going to help the other spirits. 

He thought that maybe - just maybe - protecting the forests around the world could eventually bring Arthur back. He would still be following his old motivation of making the world a better place, but this time, for a different reason. 

For Arthur.

But then Alfred laughed. 

No, how could he forget again? That inspiration had originally come from Arthur in the first place. 

Ever since the beginning, it had always been Arthur.

Of course, he knew it wasn’t going to be easy to start his own business considering he didn't really have the funds nor credibility just yet, but if he was going to make a name for himself, he needed to start somewhere, and on his own especially. Otherwise, he would just continue working under his company's name. 

So once he said his farewells to Yao and left China to return to New York, he began his journey to start his own architectural company. 

It took him a few months to get his own business license, and four more years until he left his position as Project Director at the company he had been working under. With a little bit of extra help from Matthew in terms of finance and exposure, Alfred slowly began to build his own place in the industry. 

Project after project, years sped by and Alfred's company quickly grew. His team of five evolved into 20, and eventually developed into a corporation of over 100 within the next 10 years. 

The awards granted for his success grew with every project and he was invited several times to be a guest speaker at universities and colleges within North America, and eventually, as his company began to grow, all around the world. The age of environmentalism and sustainable building had just been introduced into academia at the time, but with Alfred's contributions - whether they were his inventions or the random ideas he cooked up out of nowhere - the innovation for this side of the industry was driven forward with a speed unlike ever before. 

Truth was, many people believed in the same ideology Alfred had: that yes, growth was important and unavoidable due to the world's growing standards of living. But it shouldn't be the top priority considering how a large portion of the world's population aren't able to afford any housing and lives in poverty, struggling to live because developed countries used an unnecessary amount of resources whereas they're left with hardly anything. So if growth is inevitable, then the only way is to be conscious of _how_ we're growing.

* * *

Alfred didn't retire until he was in his 70s, and even then he didn't have a choice but to. He suffered a heart attack at work and broke a hip due to the impact of his fall and had to be hospitalized for several weeks before he could return home. If Marguerite - Matthew's daughter and one of his executives - hadn't found him collapsed in his office, things probably would've turned out much worse. Allowing Marguerite to handle whatever was left of their current working project, Alfred was forced to stay home in order to recover. 

During that time of calm and partial solitude, old memories resurfaced and Alfred did a lot of thinking during those weeks. He thought about how far he had come, what else was left to do, and how much further he would be able to go. But upon realizing that there might not actually be that much time left, the realization hit Alfred harsher than the pain of his heart attack. 

He suddenly remembered how useless he felt being unable to prevent Arthur from slipping away from him all those years ago. Of course, what he felt now still couldn't compare to how he felt seeing someone he loved just vanish from a single touch - it couldn't even compare. But to be limited by your physical capabilities was still frustrating, and Alfred's mind wasn't ready to give up. 

But after a long scolding by Matthew and some other close co-workers, Alfred realized he was left with little choice. One week later, documents were signed and the majority of his company's rights were left in Marguerite's safe hands. Of course, he still kept a portion of the bonds so until he died, he still some control over his company. 

But it was officially time for him to step down. Left unable to do much more, he decided it was time to go back to Canada. 

Back to British Columbia.

_Back to Arthur._

Luckily, Matthew and his wife welcomed him back to their house with open arms.

* * *

When Alfred was 76, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. 

At first, it seemed like he was just being forgetful - a misplaced book here and there or asking the same question several times ("Just to make sure," Alfred had said as an excuse) - but when he began to forget even Matthew on certain days, they decided to see the doctor. And their suspicions had been right:

Alfred had Alzheimer's.

The difficulty didn't come with caregiving. Alfred was still able to move around quite well for someone in his late seventy's. The hardest part was watching his memory slowly get worse. Names, numbers, places, vocabulary - it would either be all there or not at all. And for someone who had been close to him as Matthew was, to see him like this was beyond heartbreaking. 

But nothing had devastated Matthew more than the day Alfred first began to forget why he was living with them there in Canada.

_"Are you going out for your walk now, Al?" Matthew asked, lowering his book to glance over it at his cousin._

_But Alfred suddenly paused in his movements, one hand on the door handle. "Oh?" A confusion pause. "Why was I going out just now?" Matthew put down his book and frowned._

_Something was wrong._

_"Aren't you going out for your daily walk now?" He reminded him._

_"Hm, oh. . . yes, I was. . ." But Alfred still looked confused. "But. . . did I always go out for walks?"_

_"Yes, you do," Matthew reassured. "You've been doing it every day ever since you came to live with us years ago."_

_"Oh. . . But why daily walks?" Alfred asked, still frowning in thought. "Did the doctor suggest it?"_

_Matthew tried to ignore the cold feeling of dread digging a hole in his stomach. "No, you've been doing it ever since you came to live with us," he repeated. "Years before you were diagnosed."_

_"Oh. . . So why do I do it?"_

_Matthew held his breath. "So you can visit Arthur. . . remember?"_

_There was a long pause. "Arthur. . ." Alfred tested the name out on his tongue. "Do I usually visit him? Is he our neighbor? He doesn't live in the forest, does he?"_

_"Alfred. . . Have you forgotten Arthur?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"Arthur," Matthew repeated, voice straining from restrained urgency, "the spirit of the forest that you loved. The reason why you're living here in the first place. The one who inspired you to start your company!"_

_Alfred looked somewhere to the side in thought. "Arthur. . ." He turned his innocent, puzzled eyes back to Matthew after a long pause. "Who's Arthur again?"_

. . .

But it had been later that night when Alfred suddenly put his book down, an urgent look on his face. 

_"Did I got out for my walk today?!" He turned to Matthew who almost dropped his cup of coffee at the sudden outburst. "Did I visit Arthur today?!"_

_Matthew wiped his mouth. "You already went out for a walk today," he answered and Alfred sighed in relief. But he wasn't finished. "But I doubt you talked to Arthur."_

_At that, Alfred frowned. "What? Why not?"_

_Matthew looked at his cousin and realized how much heavier his heart felt while saying the truth. "You weren't able to remember him today."_

_Alfred froze. "What? Are you-. . . Are you saying I forgot Arthur?" Matthew's expression was all he needed as an answer, and his eyes dropped in disbelief, searching in that void for an answer. "T-That's-. . . That's impossible. How could I-. . . I could never-. . ." His jaw trembled and he took off his glasses to place a hand over his eyes. "Oh God," he whimpered. "Oh God, tell me this isn't happening. How could I-. . ." He pressed his hand harder into his eyes, trying to stop his tears from leaking._

_Matthew didn't know what to say. He wanted so badly to offer comforting words to soothe his cousin; to say that everything wasn't as bad as it seemed; to offer some kind of hope to Alfred's already pitiful situation._

__

__

_But what could you say to someone who's well aware of his own illness? His own incurable illness?_

_"I'm sorry, Al." He could feel his own throat tighten at the reality of it all. "I'm so sorry. . ."_

* * *

When Alfred turned 80, Marguerite often came by to take care of her parents and Alfred. 

Especially Alfred. 

Since Alfred didn't have any next of kin, he really had no other family left other than Matthew. Luckily, Marguerite grew up close to Alfred and followed in his corporate footsteps, admiring her first cousin once removed and his ideology since a young age. 

So when Alfred's hip finally gave out due to its past injury and was left confined to a wheelchair, Marguerite was more than willing to move back into the house to care for him. 

One day, Marguerite was taking Alfred out for his walk when the elderly man spoke up, a very rare occurrence since recently due to how advanced his Alzheimer's had developed. More often than not, he was stuck in an empty daze, lost in his thoughts.

"It's like this place has gotten more beautiful," Alfred whispered tenderly, more to himself that Marguerite as she pushed his wheelchair down the beaten path. 

Marguerite caught on. "Do you remember what this place used to look like?" 

Alfred lightly hummed. "Yes, but maybe to occasional visitors, it'd be harder to see any differences." They continued forward until Alfred spoke up again. 

"I wonder if Arthur will speak to me today," he mused.

"Why wouldn't he?" Marguerite asked. She had heard about Arthur from her father, and she had a hard time believing it. But out of her natural kindness and warm--heartedness, she never brought up her doubt in front of Alfred, especially after learning how important this person was to him. 

Alfred chuckled. "He got mad at me for forgetting to talk to him last time I was here."

"Do you mean yesterday?"

"No, I mean a few days ago." But then Alfred thought about it. "Oh, were we here yesterday too? Then maybe Arthur's going to be madder than I thought." He brushed it off with a chuckle, as he usually did when he remembered about his illness. 

Marguerite smiled. "Arthur seems like a wonderful person who cares about you very much. I don't think he would stay mad at you for long."

Alfred coughed out a laugh. "Oh, you don't know. That Arthur can hold grudges for days. One time, he refused to talk to me for days just because I had dragged him back into the lake to swim with me when he had just gotten out to dry off."

Marguerite laughed with him, letting her imagination wander as she looked around their green surroundings. Part of her really hoped that this Arthur spirit would one day appear. If not to quell her own doubts, but to finally reunite with Alfred before he. . .

They soon reached the end of the path and Marguerite stopped pushing. "Ah, we're at the end now, Alfred. Should we head back?"

Alfred turned his head slightly towards her. "Oh, are we not continuing?"

Marguerite walked up beside him and knelt at his side so he could see her easier. "We can stay here as long as you want but we can't keep going."

"Hm? Why not?"

"The path ends here, I'm afraid," she answered, nodding her head at the untouched forest ahead. 

Alfred followed her gaze and the realization settled. "Oh. . . That's right. I won't be able to continue in this condition, now can I?" His laughed rumbled deeply in his chest. It was so warm and pleasant to listen to until it broke out into a cough. Marguerite rubbed his back to soothe him and Alfred sighed as his coughing subsided. "It would be nice to visit that lake again," he hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder if it's still there."

"I went there last week," Marguerite offered as an answer. "If you'd like I can take pictures for you. I'm sorry I can't take you there."

"You're sweet but there's no need for you to trouble yourself. It's not the same unless I visit myself," Alfred said, smiling as he took Marguerite's hand into his own. It was always so strange to see how different the texture of their hands was. 

They stayed there for a few minutes - Alfred holding onto Marguerite's hand in thought and Marguerite patiently waiting for Alfred to say what he wanted to say. She could tell from his facial expressions that he was hesitating, but he looked so conflicted she decided to wait it out. She actually almost waited so long, she thought Alfred had retreated back into forgetfulness when the man finally sighed, seemingly giving in to whatever was troubling him.

"I feel like it won't be long now," he said quietly, and Marguerite felt her heart break. 

"Alfred, I-"

But Alfred patted her hand and shook his head to stop her. Turning his clear blue eyes towards her, he gave her a sad smile. "Marguerite, can you promise this old man something? I know you've already done so much for me but can you do me one more favor?"

Marguerite felt her eyes begin to sting. She was reminded of the times Alfred had forgotten her name in the past and how painful it was to try and remind him of who she was. Alfred was something like a second father to her. After being sent abroad to work for Alfred, she often felt homesick. But with Alfred there to guide her, she never felt lonely long enough to let it drag her down. Alfred had done so much for her as a superior and as a family member that words weren't enough to describe how truly grateful she was to him. 

So she grasped Alfred's hands a little tighter. "Of course," she agreed. "Anything."

* * *

Alfred passed away only two days after, resting peacefully in his bed with a small smile on his face. 

The funeral had been fairly large, as Alfred befriended many people in his lifetime. Professors, coworkers, students, friends, and close business partners. But once the public ceremony was over, the burial itself was small and private - Marguerite and her parents made sure of it, especially after Marguerite had told her parents about the promise she had made with Alfred before he passed away. 

_"When I die,"_ Alfred had said. _"I want you to bury me in the forest by that lake."_

 _"Why?"_ Marguerite had asked. 

With only her parents by her side, Marguerite walked towards the lake, avoiding the puddles of mud as she got closer. In her arms, she carried Alfred's ashes. Her father, on the other hand, carried a small wooden grave marker with Alfred's name on it. 

_"That way, I'll be able to see Arthur again,"_ Alfred had answered, smiling. _"It's been too long since I've last seen him. . . And this way. . ."_

Marguerite dug a small hole for the jar of ashes to rest in, and she covered it once the jar of ashes had been placed. Her mother planted the small bouquet of flowers by the grave marker as her father read the final prayers.

With gentle fingers, she traced Alfred's name, feeling her throat tighten again as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

 _"This way,"_ Alfred had said, _"I'll never have to leave Arthur ever again."_

Turning her teary eyes to her father, Marguerite asked almost desperately, "Do you think Alfred and Arthur will finally meet each other again?"

Matthew's eyes were also rimmed with pink as he turned to his daughter, mirroring her grief. "Undoubtedly."

As the family walked home, Marguerite trailed behind her parents by a few steps, unwilling to leave the forest so quickly - unwilling to part with Alfred so quickly. Her feet felt so heavy. How could she just return to her normal life now that one of the most important and influential people in her life was gone?

But just then, the forest stirred to life.

A rush of wind suddenly burst forth from within the forest, violently swaying the trees and wrecking chaos on the leaves. 

_'Alfred. . .'_ It echoed. _'Alfred. . .'_

Marguerite couldn't believe her ears.

 _'Alfred. . .'_

The howl of the wind carried with it the whispering of Alfred's name, a powerful sigh that held an unbelievable sort of tenderness and love to its lining. The sound viciously stirred Marguerite's heart and her tears spilled forth unwillingly. 

What she was feeling wasn't just her pain. It was all the pain Alfred and Arthur had suffered during their lives. 

Their sorrow. 

Their regrets.

Their yearnings.

_Their love._

Marguerite collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Even when her parents hurried to her side, worried, her tears wouldn't stop.

They couldn't hear what she heard. They couldn't feel what she felt. They couldn't hear Arthur's voice or how it thanked her for all she did to help Alfred. They couldn't hear how happy it sounded as it whispered Alfred's name.

But Marguerite heard it. 

And she cried.

. . .

 _'Alfred. . .'_ The voice sighed. 

_'Welcome back. . .'_

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out much longer than I expected. . . But I hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think and maybe I'll see some of you in Part 3!
> 
> Edit: Credit for the idea of Alfred traveling around the world goes to uncrackable_walnut! It probably wasn't what you were expecting but I hope you don't mind that I took inspiration from it!


End file.
